AARON THE MOOR

A. Van Jordan

Believe me, Queen, your swart Cimmerian
Doth make your honor of his body’s hue,
Spotted, detested, and abominable.
Titus Andronicus, Act 2, Scene 3

When we bring others into our lives,
we bring all their life into ours: not only
their family, their secrets, their dirty socks,

but also the warmth of their body next to ours,
which allows us to accept all the challenges
of our lust to belong. Aaron understands,

embracing the blood beating
between him and Tamora and the blood
hammering in his head between him and his foes.

But what’s the deal with this brother?
Jumping in bed with a Goth girl like that.
Running around in a country not his own,

beating his chest like that. He acts
like he doesn’t know those Andronicus boys
would kill him just as soon as swat a fly.

Aaron, who walks through their starlit lives
like a black hole filled with every desire
they ever desired, knows the snares of life

and, so, chooses to live his life with a vengeance.
There’s power in not apologizing for being
in the world, for embracing the legacy revealed

through, and adorned with, your skin. Yes,
coal-black is better than another hue.
When every doorway opens to another closed door,

why should he behave like a welcomed guest?
His body’s hue holds many colors,
and with the gift of his tone, he speaks

his mind through a prism of words. Yeah,
for this alone he could do prison time.
Next thing you know, every crime committed,

even crimes committed by their own hand,
gets blamed on the new brother in town,
and they’d just as soon chop off their own hand

before admitting their own wrong; they’d
cut out a tongue, before allowing someone
to tell the truth, but let’s be real:

These people can’t be trusted
because they can’t trust themselves.
But Aaron knows he’s not a traveler

in a foreign land but himself wherever he lands.
And all the water in the ocean
can never turn the swan’s legs white
.

Andronicus may try to narrow
his choice between being a villain or a slave,
as the executioner’s blade raises,

but Aaron the Moor, the man, chooses
to lift his truth above the blade,
which can’t swing true enough

to silence the cut of his tongue.